[ like an 'interesting' hm, not a judgy hm. Flare and intimidation are part and parcel of being an effective spy, honestly, so the excuse isn't totally thin. ]
Emphasis is important. Give me a moment.
[ Two blocks is quickly one, and then he's busier checking to make sure nobody sees him approaching the warehouse than flirting over the crystal. There are a few silent minutes, then the sound of a heavy door, overwhelmingly loud in the quiet building. As soon as it settles, there's a short whistle — a decent imitation of a songbird, and a classic call and answer. Because calling out people's names is boring. And you know, traps or whatever. ]
But ultimately not worth being caught for. Though he knows Caspar must be nearly arrived, Nikos still tenses up at the sound of the door. His hand closes tight around his knife.
Then he relaxes, when he hears the whistle. Without self-consciousness, he gives the answering whistle. Not nearly as skilled at it. It's a mating call, Caspar had told him, once, and Nikos had scowled, because that's what he does when anyone says anything to him. It's the inside that counts, that feels differently; the soft stupid heart and spleen or whatever.
He's on his feet when Caspar tracks the whistle to him. The corpse is quite dead. A big man, taller than either of them, and broad-shouldered. His fine clothes look a little less fine now that they're covered in mud and warehouse dust and sweat, from the running he did. Face-down in a pool of his own blood. His cut throat is likewise concealed.]
[ Caspar nudges at the corpse with a foot, mostly out of habit. ] Yes, well. It'd be a shame if this work ever got boring.
[ In more ways than one, maybe, because perhaps there's something to be said for how incredibly routine this situation feels. Caspar pulls a cloth from his belt, unwrapping the ring as he smoothly drops down to one knee — making a point to step slightly away from the corpse, first. Then he offers the ring up to Nikos, smiling in a way that's more teasing than sincere. ]
Your ring.
[ Just kidding. Probably. It isn't like they can keep the ring. ]
[Repeated exposure often breeds a kind of immunity. A little bit of poison that you drink every day, to build up your tolerance.
There's nothing like that, for Caspar. That showy stupid way that he offers the ring--on one knee, no less, and Nikos' traitor heart jolts in his chest. He curls his hand around his knife again. This time it's reflexive, the way another man might reach for a holy symbol.
To combat these feeling:]
His ring. [Pedantic. And also--] You really think you're funny, don't you.
Edited (i'm tired and also is this a marriage proposal) 2018-11-11 06:49 (UTC)
yes they are now married under spy law i just made up
[ Accompanied by a full-fledged grin, though he has the mercy to take the spotlight off of Nikos while he stews. Already crouched, it's easy for him to lift the body's hand, take a moment to determine which large finger has been marked by a ring, then put everything back where it belongs.
[He puts his back against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. Easier than kneeling down and getting face-to-face with Caspar over the corpse.]
Other than I want to have a fucking wash after chasing this arsehole halfway around this stinking city. I don't see why you're asking. You've got that ring back on him already, and that's the last of it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[Well. He reaches forward to grip the corpse by the hair and pull it back a little, to reexamine for himself.]
He fell from a distance. It's not the worse I've seen. [And, lest there be any critique--] The ring is mostly for emphasis.
no subject
[ like an 'interesting' hm, not a judgy hm. Flare and intimidation are part and parcel of being an effective spy, honestly, so the excuse isn't totally thin. ]
Emphasis is important. Give me a moment.
[ Two blocks is quickly one, and then he's busier checking to make sure nobody sees him approaching the warehouse than flirting over the crystal. There are a few silent minutes, then the sound of a heavy door, overwhelmingly loud in the quiet building. As soon as it settles, there's a short whistle — a decent imitation of a songbird, and a classic call and answer. Because calling out people's names is boring. And you know, traps or whatever. ]
no subject
But ultimately not worth being caught for. Though he knows Caspar must be nearly arrived, Nikos still tenses up at the sound of the door. His hand closes tight around his knife.
Then he relaxes, when he hears the whistle. Without self-consciousness, he gives the answering whistle. Not nearly as skilled at it. It's a mating call, Caspar had told him, once, and Nikos had scowled, because that's what he does when anyone says anything to him. It's the inside that counts, that feels differently; the soft stupid heart and spleen or whatever.
He's on his feet when Caspar tracks the whistle to him. The corpse is quite dead. A big man, taller than either of them, and broad-shouldered. His fine clothes look a little less fine now that they're covered in mud and warehouse dust and sweat, from the running he did. Face-down in a pool of his own blood. His cut throat is likewise concealed.]
He was a bitch to bring down.
[Complaining, as always.]
no subject
[ In more ways than one, maybe, because perhaps there's something to be said for how incredibly routine this situation feels. Caspar pulls a cloth from his belt, unwrapping the ring as he smoothly drops down to one knee — making a point to step slightly away from the corpse, first. Then he offers the ring up to Nikos, smiling in a way that's more teasing than sincere. ]
Your ring.
[ Just kidding. Probably. It isn't like they can keep the ring. ]
no subject
There's nothing like that, for Caspar. That showy stupid way that he offers the ring--on one knee, no less, and Nikos' traitor heart jolts in his chest. He curls his hand around his knife again. This time it's reflexive, the way another man might reach for a holy symbol.
To combat these feeling:]
His ring. [Pedantic. And also--] You really think you're funny, don't you.
yes they are now married under spy law i just made up
[ Accompanied by a full-fledged grin, though he has the mercy to take the spotlight off of Nikos while he stews. Already crouched, it's easy for him to lift the body's hand, take a moment to determine which large finger has been marked by a ring, then put everything back where it belongs.
Idly, as he works: ]
Are you in a hurry?
but did he go to spy jareds
[He puts his back against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. Easier than kneeling down and getting face-to-face with Caspar over the corpse.]
Other than I want to have a fucking wash after chasing this arsehole halfway around this stinking city. I don't see why you're asking. You've got that ring back on him already, and that's the last of it.